“What have you done?” Hattie asked Natalie.
“She’s gone mad,” Mrs. Jerome said.
Hattie smiled and nodded. “Not a surprise to me, her being an Abnormal.” Her eyes grew small when she turned back to Natalie.
“Don’t you know what a terrible embarrassment you are to our community? What damage you could have done? Don’t you know how you nearly ruined your husband’s life? How can you dare? Get back into that room where you belong until we decide you can return, if we even decide you can. Go on,” she ordered, pointing her long arm at the door of the room.
“Come back, dear,” Mrs. Jerome urged softly. “Come on. Everything will be fine now. Everything will be all right.”
Natalie, who had been staring at Hattie the way she might stare at a nightmare come alive, shook her head and backed up a few steps.
“Go on, do what you’re told!” Hattie screamed.
“Do you think you’re the first one, the only one we’ve brought here? We know exactly how to handle you, what to do with you. If you’re cooperative, you’ll go home. If not…you’ll end upon the funny farm with a few of the other failures. Get in there!” she bellowed, charging at Natalie.
Natalie cowered. Mrs. Jerome took her arm, keeping a safe distance this time, and, with Hattie poking Natalie from behind, brought her back into the room.
“Get her in bed, and give her something. I’m going downstairs to call Mr. Cauthers.”
“Cauthers?” Natalie asked, turning.
Hattie smiled. “Yes, Mrs. Ross, that’s right. Mr. Cauthers. I’ll have to tell him about your behavior, and he’ll decide whether we return you or not.”
“My husband…” Natalie started to say.
“Yes, your husband,” Hattie remarked with a smirk. “Is there any doubt men are dumber?”
She glanced at Mrs. Jerome and left the room.
Natalie started to cry. She was too weak to resist Mrs. Jerome’s rush to strip off her clothing. She let her body be twisted and turned rather roughly until she was naked. Mrs. Jerome put the hospital gown on her and got her back under the blanket.
“It was not very nice, your striking me like that, dear. It doesn’t tickle.”
Natalie gazed up at her.
“You had better just lie there quietly now until I return. Another outburst like this, and Mr. Cauthers won’t have much of a problem deciding what to do with you. No one will,” she threatened, and left the room.
Natalie wanted to cry, but her face was hardened into a mask. She felt as if she were sinking inside herself. It no longer mattered what they did to the outside of her body, the shell. She would be safe if she didn’t let any of their words get in and didn’t see them or whatever they did. She would curl up into a ball, like a caterpillar, and they would never, never bother her again.
Sixteen
Ryan Lee slowed down when he reached the tall hedges bordering the property. He brought the car to a complete stop at the sight of the gate. Entering the property without a search warrant would compromise any investigation, but at this stage, he had been pulled from the case anyway, he thought. He was here because, despite his training, this had become personal. A natural pregnancy was being kept secret, and if a murder had to be covered up to do so, that was all right with the powers that be. Well, it wasn’t all right with him. Inherently, he felt as if they were telling him in the strongest possible way that he, like the other Naturals, was so much of an embarrassment that even murder was justified to keep the Naturals nonexistent in the eyes of the community.
Lieutenant Childs was right. I was the wrong person for the job they wanted done, he thought, but he wondered just how far up this conspiracy actually reached. He considered himself a fairly good judge of men, and Lieutenant Childs always struck him as a fair-minded, decent man who would not tolerate anything remotely like this. However, it could easily have been beyond his power to do anything about it, either.
Ryan stepped out of the car and searched the front of the property, noting that there was some space between the branches of the tall hedges about a dozen yards from the gate. It really wasn’t wide enough for him to slip through, but he went for it anyway, pushing and tearing at the branches to widen the opening. He scratched his neck and his legs, tore the bottom of his trousers, caught the sleeve of his jacket on a branch, and had to tear that, too, in order to pass through the hedges and get inside the property.
Once that was accomplished, he paused to study the driveway leading to the building. He looked for security cameras and saw them on the poles. Everything depended on how well they were being monitored, he thought, but that was taking too much of a chance. There was always the possibility of laser alarms as well, which when broken would arouse a sleeping security guard.
He gazed over the expanse of lawn and took out his pocket reader. Besides searching for explosives, it could detect a variety of security systems. He directed it at the lawn and quickly saw that the whole property was covered in a laser grid, and, as he had suspected, it stretched over the driveway as well. Just taking a few steps forward on this lawn would set off alarms. It was good that he had stopped and kept himself close to the hedges.
However, such a security system in a rural area like this would have to take into account small field animals, or there would be endless false alarms. A quick check showed him the system was set at least two to three feet high, making allowances for ground hogs, rabbits, squirrels, and the like. It was sophisticated enough to differentiate between birds and land animals.
He put away his reader and went down on all fours, moving on his forearms to go lower. Every ten yards or so, he paused and checked the area with his pocket reader. He crawled on. Heavy humidity brought out the sweet smell of earth and freshly cut grass, filling his nostrils with the aromas. Above him, the increasingly overcast sky drowned out the splatter of stars that had been visible. The lit windows in the grand house seemed to brighten, but he saw no movement, nobody silhouetted behind the glass and curtains.
It was some distance to the building, but he was in terrific shape and was able to crawl rather quickly and relatively effortlessly until he reached the curb of the driveway directly across from the front steps. He saw the roving video cameras sweeping the driveway and kept himself down in the shadows. Now what?
He could rush the door, but it had to be locked, and he would break one of the beams in his attempt. He could try to breach one of the windows on the first floor, but the chances that they were armed to prevent intrusion were too great. He studied the scene before him some more and had turned to fall back into the shadows when he heard the gate opening and saw a vehicle start up the driveway. An authorized arrival automatically shut down the laser beams. Here was an opportunity.
The car pulled into a parking space, and Preston Ross emerged. He was alone. For a long moment, he just stared at the front door of the building as if he really didn’t want to go inside.
Ryan waited for him to take his first steps before coming up behind him and putting his pistol against his back. Preston started to spin around.
“What the…”
“Easy, counselor. Don’t make any foolish moves on me.”
“Detective Lee.” He glanced at the front door and then back to Ryan. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“When you didn’t call as you promised, I thought I would take some initiative,” Ryan replied, smiling.
“I was told they had replaced you. I thought the case was solved and it wasn’t necessary for me to call anyone. Actually, I thought you had already left Sandburg. Why are you here?”
“That’s quite a bit of thinking, Mr. Ross, but no harm done,” Ryan said, directing his pistol at the front door. “I can speak with your wife right now, can’t I? This is where she is, right?”
“How did you find out?” Preston asked, a little too calmly for Ryan. What gave the man such confidence? Ryan wondered. He should be nervous. Ryan quickly glanced from side to side and then undid the safety
on his pistol with an obviousness designed for its dramatic impact. Preston’s eyes did widen.
“Professional secret, I’m afraid. Shall we go in?”
“This isn’t right. You don’t have a right to be here and search this property,” Preston warned him.
“How do you know that I don’t have a proper search warrant, Mr. Ross?”
Preston smiled. “You didn’t just walk up and knock on the door. Even knowing you as short a time as I have, I don’t doubt that’s what you would do.”
“Maybe I was just waiting for you,” Ryan told him.
Preston lost his smile. “You’re out of bounds, Lee. You’re only going to get yourself in serious trouble.”
“You mean I’m not already? That’s a relief. Go on,” Ryan ordered.
“This isn’t a good time. You don’t understand what’s happening here,” Preston said without moving.
“I understand exactly what’s happening here. You and your powerful allies made some phone calls to get rid of me because you realized I know.”
“That’s not…”
“There are now two dead teenage girls in your community, Mr. Ross, and I’m convinced that they were both murdered. The key to ending all this might be waiting in that house. Now, either you walk in under your own power, or I’ll drag you in behind me,” Ryan threatened.
Whatever Preston saw in Ryan’s eyes convinced him instantly that it wasn’t a bluff. He turned and walked up the steps. Just as they reached the door, it opened, and Mrs. Jerome stood there looking out at him and Ryan. She carried a small tray in her right hand. It had a syringe on it.
“Mrs. Jerome? I’m Preston Ross,” he told her.
“Of course. We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Ross,” she replied, and looked at Ryan. “However, there was no mention of an additional visitor.”
“This is Detective Ryan Lee of the New York State CID. I did not know he was coming here tonight. It’s as much of a surprise to me as it is to you.”
“Why is he here?” she asked.
“He wants to speak with my wife. In fact, he insists on speaking to her.”
“Speaking to her? But…” Mrs. Jerome looked at Ryan and then at Preston. “Haven’t you told him how she is, described her current condition?”
“I wasn’t given that opportunity, Mrs. Jerome. Perhaps you will do it for me.”
She turned to Ryan and brought her shoulders up and back as if she were about to begin to address a roomful of premedical students.
“Mrs. Ross is in the midst of serious emotional and psychological trauma. She can’t see anyone but her husband, much less answer questions intelligently. I’m afraid I can’t permit it,” she concluded firmly. “I would certainly have to confer with the doctor in any case.”
Ryan brought his pistol into view, and her eyes widened. “As you can see, we have special permission,” he said. “You don’t have to trouble yourself with any of that bureaucratic stuff, going through channels and the like.”
“But…”
“Lead us to her immediately,” he commanded.
She looked at Preston.
“You’d better do as he asks, Mrs. Jerome.”
“This is utterly ridiculous. I mean to make a complaint,” she muttered.
“Get in line,” Ryan said. “Let’s go.” He waved the pistol at her.
“I don’t understand why you have a gun pointing at me. It makes me very uncomfortable.”
“Consider it pointing at Mr. Ross,” Ryan said. “And this model has been known to go off accidentally, almost as if it has a mind of its own,” he added.
“Please, just do as he asks,” Preston urged.
She turned and started up the stairway, Preston and Ryan right behind her.
“I can’t imagine what could be so important not to wait for the woman to be coherent. What good is it going to do you to speak to her now, anyway?” she asked, turning at the top of the stairs. “What is this about?”
“It’s about murder and cover-ups and all the good things that make our lives complicated,” Ryan told her. “There’s a real sense of urgency, too, otherwise I would chitchat all night with you. Where is she?”
Mrs. Jerome’s face tightened, her lips pressed so hard together she looked as if she would choke herself.
“How did you get that vicious black-and-blue on your cheek?” Ryan asked her now that she was directly under the hall light.
“I walked into a door,” she snapped back, turned, and headed into Natalie’s room.
She flipped on the overhead light, and Natalie, who was staring up at the ceiling, brought her arm over her eyes and uttered a small cry.
“Baby,” Preston said, hurrying to her side. “How are you doing?”
He seized her hand, sat on the bed, and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. Natalie immediately began to cry.
“Hey, don’t worry. I’m here,” Preston said, embracing her. He stroked back strands of her hair and kissed her forehead lovingly. “I came as soon as they called me. You’ll be fine. Everything’s going to be all right, Nat. You’ll have the best doctors, everything.”
She shook her head vigorously and pulled herself from Preston’s embrace.
Ryan moved up beside Mrs. Jerome, who stood off to the right.
“They took our baby,” Natalie sobbed. “They stole our baby, Preston.”
“Now, take it easy, honey. That’s not what happened. I’ve been briefed on it all.”
He smiled at her.
“You were suffering a condition that’s a lot more common than people know. No problem. You’re going to be fine. We’ll apply for our child the right way, and we will start our family. Just like the Normans,” he added. “Can’t you just see you and Judy pushing baby carriages together? It’s all going to happen, just the way you hoped.”
“No, Preston. I didn’t imagine it. No. They took our child!”
“Nat,” he said, moving to embrace her again.
“No,” she cried louder, and swung her arms about wildly.
Preston seized her wrists “Easy, Nat, easy,” he urged.
“Do you see?” Mrs. Jerome asked Ryan. “You see how utterly ridiculous it would be for you to ask her questions now? Please leave.”
“What is she saying? What does she mean, you took her child?” Ryan demanded instead of replying.
“She is suffering a condition known as false pregnancy. She was under the psychological mis-apprehension that she was pregnant. She’s not, and when that was explained to her by our resident psychiatrist who is an expert in the matter, she had a nervous breakdown. It’s not unexpected. It will pass. She will improve in time, but there is nothing you can do at the moment except leave these people be,” Mrs. Jerome lectured. “Now, please go before you cause more trouble and do her more harm than she’s already done to herself.”
Preston turned, his face no longer rigid with defiance or arrogance. His eyes were teary. “Satisfied?” he asked Ryan. “That’s what I was trying to tell you outside.”
“I’m not imagining it, Preston,” Natalie insisted in a loud whisper.
Ryan stepped closer to the bed. “My name is Ryan Lee, Mrs. Preston,” he said. “I’m a special investigator with the state CID. What do you believe has happened to you?”
“I was aborted,” she said with absolute firmness.
Ryan stared at her. To him, she didn’t look like a woman who was rambling out of her mind.
“She’s hallucinating,” Mrs. Jerome said.
“I’m not,” Natalie insisted, and turned to Preston. “Hattie Scranton was here. She made them do it. They took our child.”
“Hattie Scranton?” Ryan repeated.
“It’s all part of the hallucinations,” Mrs. Jerome said when Preston turned to her. “The doctor said so and will explain it further to you as well, Mr. Ross.”
“Where is the doctor? I thought he was going to be here when I arrived,” Preston asked.
“He’ll be here soon. For now, I ha
d better give your wife her shot so she can get some rest.”
“Not yet,” Ryan ordered, waving her back from the bed. He stepped closer and turned to Preston. “You sent her here to give birth, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You were going to have a natural child?”
“It’s none of your business, but yes. I thought she was pregnant. I took her word for it. She didn’t look very pregnant, but I understand women can be as late as she is and not show that much. I’m no expert on it, so I believed her.”
“I was pregnant!” Natalie screamed, sitting up on her elbows now. “Aren’t you listening to me? I had all the symptoms, physical symptoms. I still have evidence of it. They performed an abortion!”
Ryan looked at Mrs. Jerome, his eyes narrowing.
“People who suffer her delusion actually do experience physical symptoms. It has been explained to her, and it will be understood in time.”
“Why is she saying she was aborted?” Ryan demanded.
“It’s part of the condition, what happens when they realize they’re not pregnant. The mind creates the explanation, an explanation that will satisfy them. Abortion,” she continued. “How utterly ridiculous. We’re here to help people who require natural birthing. That’s why the foundation was established. This isn’t some underground abortion clinic.”
Ryan turned back to Preston. “It shouldn’t be hard to determine what went on here and what didn’t, Mr. Ross. We’ll take her to a doctor who can examine her and determine if an abortion was indeed performed on her recently. Even the newest techniques will be detectable. Let’s get your wife dressed and out of here.”
“That would be very foolish,” Mrs. Jerome said. “The doctor is on his way here, and he’ll explain why. She could suffer irreparable damage and never recover from this psychological phenomenon. We have seen it before with cases such as Mrs. Ross’s, and the aftermath for some has not been good.”
“In a word, bullshit,” Ryan told her. “Where are her clothes?”
She didn’t move; she didn’t speak.
“Where are they?” he shouted, stepping toward her. “Talk fast if you don’t want to walk into another door.”
The Baby Squad Page 23